


All the Light We Cannot See

by Zelos



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Cake, F/M, Fluff, Insecurity, Jakejam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2235375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelos/pseuds/Zelos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wanted to be pretty. For once. For you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Light We Cannot See

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustAnotherGhostwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherGhostwriter/gifts), [littlebirdtoldme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebirdtoldme/gifts).



> Takes place early on in the series, a little before Book 20.

“One top, Rachel. _One_.” Cassie made a valiant attempt at staring down her best friend before shaking her head. “I…Rachel, I don’t know about this. _How_ did I let you talk me into this?”

Rachel sighed and let go of the scarves she had been scrutinizing. “Honestly, Cassie—do you think you were the only one who kept accidentally-not-so-accidentally name-dropping Jake into your conversations?” She made a face as she sauntered over to a pile of sweaters. “Just imagine that every time you were doing your whole ‘I was just out with Rachel. And, uh, Jake’ routine to your parents, Jake had been doing it to his folks about _you_. Everyone from Uncle Steve to Tom to Aunt Ellen thinks you two are dating. Doesn’t help that Jake basically turns firetruck red every time your name is mentioned.”

Cassie’s face _burned_ in what was probably a passable imitation of Jake. “But…we’re not…”

“Well, _they_ think you are, and that’s what matters,” Rachel said dryly as she leafed through the sweater pile with a critical eye. “You will not _believe_ how many times I’ve heard the fam ask Jake about ‘when’re you introducing your girlfriend?’ And that’s just within _my_ earshot. And trust me, it’s better that you come _now_ , when I’m around to run interference. Yeah, there’re more people, but that’s less attention on you. Because Uncle Steve’s suggestion was to have you over for dinner with them. Just Uncle Steve and Aunt Jean and Jake and you. Oh, and Tom. _Trust me_ , this is the better way.”

Cassie trailed after her, still trying to find words. “But we’re… _not_. And…he could…say no, right? Keep saying no?” Her stomach flipped at the thought of Jake. And Jake’s parents. And Jake’s _entire family_ , cousins and all (and not just Tom and Rachel’s sisters, either). “It’s gonna be everyone, Rachel. _Everyone_.”

“You might as well go with it,” Rachel advised. “It’d be different if you two _weren’t_ crushing on each other, but you are _anyway_ , and if this _finally_ gives Jake the kick in the pants to ask you out _properly_ …well, that might be the one good thing that comes out of all this.” She pulled up an armful of clothing from the basket she was toting. “Now, try these on.”

“I said _one_ top, Rachel,” Cassie said automatically as she sifted through the pile of tops, jeans, skirts, and a weird item that looked like a pair of shorts with a long flap. At least protesting against Rachel’s shopaholic tendencies was a safer—and more familiar—train of thought than the looming disaster of meeting _Jake’s entire family_. “One top. _One_. I _have_ jeans, and shoes, and it’s not like my hair really needs any fussing.” She ran a hand through her hair self-consciously.

“Cassie,” Rachel said with infinite patience, “there is _no way_ I’m letting you go to our family dinner with anyone, even my dorky cousin Jake, wearing your usual too-short, too-faded, too animal-ized jeans. _They_ think it’s a date, you might as well _make it_ a sort-of date, and you have to wear a _new_ outfit on your first sort-of date. It’s like, tradition or something. Trust me, you’ll knock everyone’s socks off and leave Jake in awed silence.” She all but pushed Cassie toward the change rooms. “Now, _go try these on_.”

 

“Hi, sweetie,” her father called as Cassie toted her bounty towards her room, “did you have a good time with Rachel?”

“Yeah,” Cassie called back. “I was just out shopping, for…” She trailed off, feeling her face heat up at the very subject. Good thing her father couldn’t see her. “Um, I was just going to do some homework, unless you need me for something?”

“Nope, you’re off the hook tonight!” Walter answered, and Cassie gratefully slunk off to her room.

Once safely behind her locked bedroom door, Cassie dropped her bags. Despite her earlier words and the math homework piling atop her desk, academics was the last thing on her mind. Instead, she scrutinized her reflection in the mirror hanging on her door.

Cassie ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the dark coils tangling her fingers. Her gaze skimmed across the reflection of her face, the width of her nose, the dark skin over rounded cheeks, the fullness of her lips. Her loose t-shirt hid her broad, unfeminine shoulders and the bit of pouch in her tummy, while her stained (animal-ized, Rachel called it) jeans were baggy and _forgiving_ of the heaviness in her hips and the thick set of her legs.

Her new outfit looked good (of _course_ it did, Rachel picked it). The cut of the sweater de-emphasized the boxy width of her shoulders while the skort comfortably hugged her wider hips, and both looked infinitely better than her usual wardrobe. And of course, they fit like a glove. Rachel wasn’t the goddess of shopping for nothing.

But no outfit did anything for her _face_. No outfit did anything for the awkward air she projected when she deviated from her uniform of t-shirt, jeans/overalls, and crusty gum-boots. No outfit taught her anything resembling _grace_.

She thought of Rachel. Beautiful, gorgeous, model Rachel, her hair a cascade of silken gold. Tall, willowy, athletic Rachel, who could look like she just walked off a catwalk after a thunderstorm and an earthquake combined, with not a stain on her clothes nor a hair out of place. Rachel, who always looked like she just stepped off the cover of _Seventeen_ magazine even seconds after a brawl with Visser Three.

The dinner was in _four days_. With Jake’s _entire extended family_. She’d probably be sitting with Rachel, even—Rachel _and_ Jake. Her, the dumpy farm girl, being scrutinized by Jake’s family and doubtless falling short of expectations. Jake was _Rachel’s_ cousin, after all, and looked the part.

There was a lump in her throat and her stomach felt like someone had dropped a block of lead inside. Earlier, she’d been so busy trying to find clothes for the occasion that she hadn’t spared much thought about how she _looked_. Now, with the wardrobe problem solved, her looks was suddenly all she could think about.

Her mind couldn’t help but wonder what she’d look like if she’d just been born differently, just by a little bit. Skin a little lighter, hair a little silkier, body a little longer instead of her stocky, compact build. Cassie wasn’t ashamed of herself, or ashamed of her race, but…

But she wasn’t _Rachel_.

Cassie didn’t realize what was happening until she noticed her skin shading just a little lighter, drawing taut across heightened cheekbones.

She froze and the morphing immediately stopped. Breathless, she kicked off her jeans and stared at her lengthened calves, her legs finally showing the muscles that she knew were there. In almost a panic now, Cassie ran a hand through her hair—her still-dark, still-curly hair—and could feel the increased silkiness of the strands.

This was _wrong_.

Hastily, she reversed the morph, and breathed a sigh of relief as her skin shaded back to its usual colour and the fullness returned to her lips and cheeks. Then, another sigh, this one of disappointment.

Cassie stared at her reflection and fought the urge to cry. For a moment there, she…well, she hadn’t been _gorgeous_ by any means (not like Rachel), but she’d been…well… _pretty_. Maybe.

But now she was back to normal. Still just Cassie: dumpy, stocky, boyish Cassie. And whatever Rachel said, it wasn’t about clothes. It wasn’t about clothes at all; she didn’t care about the _clothes_. It was about _her_.

She wasn’t ugly. She just wasn’t beautiful. And normally she didn’t care much about either topic, but when people were scrutinizing Jake and her it was obvious they were…mismatched.

Cassie all but ran back to her math homework, and scribbled nonsense numbers for three hours.

 

The next day, she tried it again—this time, she fought her squeamishness and went all the way.

Well, not _all the way_ —all the way would mean morphing Rachel. And she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to _be_ Rachel, just… _borrow_ certain traits. Not even borrow in its entirety, but just…little bits. Like slim her legs just a tad and add maybe an inch or two in height and make her skin have that gorgeous Rachel-glow that made Rachel look like she was wearing makeup even when she wasn’t.

If Cassie hadn’t intentionally morphed it the first time, she certainly intended on it afterwards. She knew it was wrong—so, so wrong. It was totally against their ethical code—the code that she had come up with, the code that she was the most vocal supporter of.

But she…couldn’t face them like this. And she wanted Rachel’s calm and poise, wanted a shadow of the utter confidence from the girl who never looked less than perfect.

Cassie told herself that Rachel would understand her wanting to make a good impression.

 

“Cassie!” her mom called. “Rachel’s here!”

“Coming!” Cassie yelled back, tugging awkwardly at her new sweater. The sweater that had fit perfectly four days ago now hung oddly on her, making it just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. She ran a hand through the silkier coils on her head, trying to arrange the pliant strands, then promptly gave it up for a lost cause.

She slipped on her new shoes and cracked open her door, listening for her parents’ footsteps. Rachel and Jake’s family may not know any better, but she didn’t want her parents to see the different her. Especially since they knew that Rachel hadn’t stopped by to doll her up beforehand. No _way_ could Cassie fool her parents into thinking she’d done all this by herself.

A moment later, she heard the toilet flush. A clanking of pots and pans in the kitchen gave away the location of the other parent.

Cassie took this as her cue to bolt out the door, not even looking back as she yelled “Bye Mom! Bye Dad!” She didn’t stop running until she was at the car, fumbling awkwardly with the door’s handle before she pulled it open.

“Hey, Cassie,” Rachel said, looking perfect as usual. “Looking…” she trailed off, blue eyes narrowing. Of course Rachel’d notice; Cassie hadn’t expected to fool her for a second. Rachel, who saw her own reflection every day, and who probably knew Cassie’s sizes and proportions off by heart.

“Hey, Rachel,” Cassie answered guiltily, avoiding Rachel’s gaze. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Hi, everyone.”

“Hi, Cassie,” Naomi said distractedly. She’d been using the lull of the wait to check something on her pager. “Sara, Jordan, scoot over to make room for Cassie.”

“Wow, Cassie,” Jordan said as she obligingly moved, “you look different. _Pretty_.”

Cassie swallowed but kept her voice light, pretending like she couldn’t feel Rachel’s stare boring into the side of her head. “Thanks. It’s all due to your sister.”

Her inner Rachel was silent. She hadn’t morphed enough Rachel to be bold.

 

When Jake saw her, he was…well, he was stunned into silence, all right. Just like Rachel promised. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened and he actually _stared_.

Cassie wished it was because of the wardrobe alone, but she was determinedly going to make the best of it. She ignored the look Jake and Rachel exchanged and ignored the thinning of Rachel’s lips.

Rachel and Jake (mostly Rachel) introduced her to the extended family, and Cassie made polite and awkward conversation (mostly awkward); eventually Rachel just took over the conversations since Jake and Cassie immediately started stammering as soon as anyone mentioned the two of them in the same sentence.

Throughout the introductions, Rachel kept giving her meaningful looks that indicated she wanted to go somewhere private; instead, Cassie stayed three steps behind Jake and within hearing-range of a Berenson relative at all times. Even after they were seated for dinner (and Cassie was indeed sandwiched between Rachel and Jake), Cassie either filled her mouth with food or questions about other people. The less said about her and Jake, the better.

Sadly, that didn’t last.

“How long have you two been together, Jake?” Aunt Ellen asked as she spooned mashed potatoes onto her plate.

Jake choked mid-bite and Tom thumped him on the back. Cassie’s face flamed (she hadn’t gotten any of Rachel’s unflappable demeanor either) and she looked desperately at Rachel for help. Rachel, mouth also full of food, gave her a pointed look and continued chewing.

“Um, er, um, ah,” Jake stammered as soon as he could breathe again. His face was pink and rapidly turning scarlet. He kept his eyes firmly on his plate. “Um, er…Cassie…when did we start counting?”

 _You’re dumping this on me?!_ Cassie shrieked mentally. Crossing her legs (like Rachel did) hid part of her shaking, but she was certain her face was approaching magenta. “I…ah…don’t know? Um, a…few months, maybe?” She managed to keep her voice from squeaking at least.

Surprisingly, it was Tom who came to the rescue. Tom—well, Tom’s Yeerk—was watching this with typical big-brother amusement, one dark eyebrow cocked at Jake. Let it never be said that Yeerks were bad at playing their parts.

“It’s been almost a year, right?” Tom commented around a mouthful of mashed potatoes (“ _swallow_ first, Tom!” Jean chided to little effect). “That was about the time Marco stopped coming over for video games as often and you stopped practicing basketball. I’d always wondered what you were occupying your time with, Midget.”

A part of Cassie was alarmed that Tom’s Yeerk had paid Jake’s habits that much attention. Most of her, however, was relieved that _someone_ was answering the question.

“Cassie, you want to become a vet, right?” Steve changed the subject, eyes crinkling in sympathy and amusement.

“Um, yeah,” Cassie mumbled, but her face lost a little bit of the heat at the familiar topic. “I, uh, work with my dad. I help him with the Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic we run in our barn.”

Rachel took pity on her— _finally_. “Cassie’s gonna become the greatest vet ever,” she declared with lofty Rachel confidence. “By the time she reaches vet school she’ll know more than the teachers. I mean, how many people our age do you know who can wrestle a wolf, feed pills to a bear, calm a skunk, and stick her hand up an eagle’s butt all in the same afternoon?”

“ _Ewwwwwwwwww_!” Sara and Brooke shrieked in unison, and the moment was broken as the adults started shushing kids. Cassie and Jake exchanged a quick, embarrassed look, and both immediately went back to shovelling food into their mouths.

Having her hand up an eagle’s butt was _not_ the way Cassie envisioned impressing Jake’s family, but she’d take what she could get.

 

Cassie passed on the dessert. While food consumed in morph didn’t seem to have any effect on their real forms, she had no idea what rules a partial morph followed. Her real body’s thighs were plenty big enough already.

 _Jake_ had dessert—all of two bites, anyway. He kept picking at the pie and darting glances at Cassie when he thought she wasn’t looking (she was).

“Hey,” he finally mumbled _sotto voce_ , “you wanna, um, go…out…for a bit?” He looked up at her, blushed, and looked down again.

Cassie, who had finally started recovering from the previous embarrassment, felt her insides do a little flip. “I…have to go to the bathroom.” She did, too. She had to refresh her morphing clock.

Besides, Jake probably wasn’t inviting her out to…hold hands with her (her face heated up even more at the thought). Cassie felt her stomach drop again at the thought of Jake’s disappointed look. She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of _that_ look; he usually lectured Rachel. Or Marco. Or…well, almost anyone else except for her.

“Oh. Okay.” Jake was shredding his napkin, still mumbling almost to himself. “What…what about after?”

“I…” Cassie trailed off as she noticed Naomi, Steve, Jean, and Uncle George were all looking at them in great interest. They weren’t even _pretending_ otherwise. At this rate, Cassie’s face would stay scarlet _forever_.

Beside her, Rachel rolled her eyes and nudged Cassie in the ribs. “Just go.” The look in her eyes indicated that she wasn’t just being a supportive friend.

Jake’s parents were giving very pointed _looks_. They gave Cassie _looks_ too, if slightly less pointed. Not that Jake was looking at his parents.

Jake pushed his plate away. “I’ll…wait for you at the door?”

There was no getting out of it now. Cassie took a deep breath. “O-okay.”

 

Jake was indeed waiting for her at the door (even after Cassie purposely dawdled in the bathroom for no less than ten minutes). He said nothing as she toed on her shoes. Said nothing as they trudged along the neighbourhood, steps slightly out of sync (Cassie’s legs now has just a slightly longer stride and the difference kept making her stumble).

In the end, Cassie cracked first. “Are…are you mad?”

“Maybe. Not yet.” Jake’s voice sounded like a sigh. He had his hands jammed firmly into his jacket pockets and somehow managed to slouch while walking, but he did look at her. “You wanna tell me what this is about?”

Cassie balled her hands into fists inside her own pockets. “You…you could tell, huh?” she said weakly.

Jake shrugged one shoulder. “I thought it was just…makeup, or something, at first. Rachel’s pretty good with her makeup. But…somehow I didn’t think Rachel would paint you white. Or…paler, anyway.” He gestured awkwardly with one elbow at her arms; even after practice, Cassie hadn’t been able to get Rachel’s glow without a little of Rachel’s colouring. “And I didn’t think she’d paint your arms, either.” He stopped, looking Cassie up and down in a way that made her squirm. “And…yeah, you’re taller too. A little.”

Part of her was flattered that he noticed these details, despite Rachel’s proclamations about the attention-span of boys. Mostly, though, she was just ashamed. Cassie kept her gaze on her feet, trudging on the pavement. “I…wanted to make a good impression.”

Jake didn’t answer, just continued walking. Cassie snuck a glance up at him; Jake looked back, his face a mix of reproachfulness and bewilderment.

“It’s wrong, I know,” Cassie said miserably. _Especially_ coming from her, the moral one. The one always going on about ethical issues. This kind of tactic wouldn’t have been a surprise from _Marco_ , maybe, but it made her feel like dirt. _Hypocritical_ dirt. “I just wanted…”

 _I wanted to be pretty. For once. For you._ She rubbed at her face, still startled at the narrow taper of her chin.

Jake caught her arm before she moved it back, studying it quickly before returning his gaze to her face. “You…look great. I mean,” he added hastily, his face pinking again, “as _you_. You…you _always_ look great.” As if realizing he was still holding her arm, he quickly let her go.

Jake has said as much before, and maybe in some weird way he actually _believed_ it. But Cassie wanted the rest of Jake’s family to believe it, too.

But still, hearing it again, having the affirmation that she wasn’t just the sidekick to Rachel’s glory, sparked a warm glow in the pit of her stomach, replacing—however minutely—the lump of lead.

She swallowed thickly, eyes on the ground. “Sorry.” It was a whisper.

“It’s okay,” and Jake’s voice was very gentle. “Change back, Cassie.”

“I can’t,” Cassie said helplessly. “I can’t show up again looking different from when I did ten minutes ago.”

Jake nodded slowly. “I know. I meant…just a little bit. I…” He blushed and looked away, the words catching in his throat. After three tries, he mumbled, earnest and embarrassed, “I…don’t want to feel like I’m holding hands with my cousin.”

The bottom seemed to fall out of Cassie’s world. But it was a warm, giddy, glowy feeling; she didn’t so much feel like she was _falling_ as she was _floating_. Floating in a cloud of happiness. Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach flipped _again_ , but this time, a smile was stretching unbidden across her too-narrow face. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a hummingbird’s wings.

Cassie cleared her throat. “Okay.” She cast a furtive look around (she was starting to stare) to see if anyone was close enough to see. “Okay, then.” She wanted to close her eyes to concentrate, but Jake was looking at her _right in the eyes_ and she didn’t quite dare break the gaze.

She morphed back her hand—the hand Jake had been holding, however briefly. From the elbow down, her skin returned to its dark colour, the fingers thickening and shrinking slightly, changing from Rachel’s long, slender fingers to her shorter, stubbier ones. _Her_ hand, not hers-and-Rachel’s.

Jake reached out, his fingers tangling with hers. Just hers. He squeezed her hand.

Hesitantly, Cassie squeezed back.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt is entirely from Ghostie, who wrote--and I quote:
>
>> Cassie gets dragged to a Berenson family gig, either as Jake’s date or as Rachel’s friend. But it’s pretty obvious to everybody in that family about Jake and Cassie and the blushy yucky crush. And Cassie, nervous, decides to… alter her looks a little. She’s got Rachel in her, after all, and Rachel won’t MIND and she wants to make a good impression and not be dumpy farm girl. And Jake is just… I dunno. You fill that last bit in.
> 
> This was also to spite Ghostie _and_ Erin, both of whom insisted I can't write happy things.
> 
> Nyah, you two. :P


End file.
